


All the Time in World

by Pennedbybee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennedbybee/pseuds/Pennedbybee
Summary: After the almost end of the world, everything was pretty much the same. Aziraphale was enjoying his freedom from Heaven, but it came with a price. It was getting harder and harder to not tell Crowley that he loved them, though he was sure they knew anyway. Aziraphale was just happy to be in Crowley's life and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that.This story is written in Aziraphale's point of view, so Crowley seems a lot cooler here than normal.Unbetaed so all the mistakes are mine.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 45





	All the Time in World

After almost the end of the world, things went back to the way they were for the most part.

Aziraphale and Crowley had lunches and dinners together, late night talks, visits to museums and theatres, much like they always had.

Aziraphale was enjoying his new freedom, not having Heaven breathing down his neck and being able to enjoy spending even more time with Crowley without fear. However, this freedom did come with a price. It was getting harder and harder to not say “I love you,” to them before hanging up the phone or to not give Crowley a goodnight kiss when they left the shop to go back to their apartment.

It was getting harder not to show Crowley how much he loves them. Aziraphale was sure they knew how much he loves them but was too kind to bring it up.  
Despite what they say, Crowley was kind, more than kind. Even though he was aware he was biased, Aziraphale thought Crowley was wonderful and a great friend. They were still willing to be in Aziraphale’s life, despite knowing how he felt. 

Sometimes he wondered if Crowley was so calm and kind about his crush because so many others love them, too. They must have a lot of experience with dealing with humans, maybe even other demons, falling in love with them. 

It was understandable. Aziraphale wasn’t sure when he fell in love, but he realized long before he was brave enough to give a name to it, maybe before he met some of the humans who had fallen in love with Crowley as well. Crowley was naturally charismatic even without being a demon. Even now, when Crowley comes to the bookshop, more people come in. Thankfully, they usually don’t try to buy anything, and it’s nice having Crowley close without fear of retribution from either side. He would just have to remember to not take advantage of their friendship or kindness. He was just happy to spend time with Crowley. 

Aziraphale was just considering this when the door opened. It was Ms. Fritz, the older lady who comes to the bookshop to copy down recipes from old cookbooks.   
“Hello, Mr. Fell,” she said, setting a tin on the counter, “I made some biscuits for you and your partner.” “Thank you, Ms. Fritz,” he replied, feeling his cheeks redden, “but Anthony isn’t my partner. We are just best friends.” 

She gave him a look that seemed to show pity, at least to Aziraphale. I guess it really is that obvious, he thought. “Some lovely books with Victorian recipes have just come in, if you would like to take a look,” he said. After guiding her to the new books (he makes sure no one but him can figure out the shelving system), Aziraphale headed over to the counter and picked up the tin. He was about to take it into the backroom when the door opened again. “Hello, Angel,” Crowley greeted him. “Hello, my dear. That dress looks lovely on you,” Aziraphale complimented them. They always looked beautiful, but the simple black dress with spaghetti straps and open back, was particularly lovely.   
“You always say that,” Crowley replied, seeming pleased about the compliment just the same. “Ms. Fritz made these biscuits for us.” Aziraphale said, gesturing to where she was, to indicate that she was in the shop. “Well, open it then,” Crowley said, looking at the angel. Aziraphale thought about mentioning what Ms. Fritz said but decided not to. It would be awkward while she was still in the shop, and even more awkward to admit that a stranger saw them that way. 

“Gingerbread and tea biscuits. Thank you, Ms. Fritz,” he said as he looked in the tin. “Would you like a gingerbread before I put them away?” he asked Crowley. They didn’t eat many sweets, but they did like ginger. “Not now, angel. We have tickets for As You Like It this evening,” they remind him. “Of course! Once Ms. Fritz is done, I will close the shop,” Aziraphale replied. It has been a long time since they have been to a Shakespearian play. He can remember when he introduced Crowley to William. He was sure William was one of those humans who fell in love with Crowley. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if anything happened since he lost the coin toss (which he believes Crowley may have cheated) and had to go to Edinburgh for a week. He never asked what happened, he was just happy for William when Hamlet was so successful. “Well, I am done for today,” Ms. Fritz said as she gathered her things and walked towards the door. She turned around and gave them a look, saying, “Goodbye. I hope you enjoy those biscuits.” “Yes, thank you again, Ms. Fritz. I hope you have a good day,” Aziraphale replied, trying to keep his face neutral. Thankfully, Crowley didn’t say anything about that look, which he was sure was pitying.

“Well, my dear, I will just close up and put these in the backroom,” Aziraphale suggested, “then we can go for a walk before the show.” He tried to sound normal. Even though he knew it wasn’t returned, Aziraphale still loved them and wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t want to do or say anything that could jeopardize that.  
He closed the shop and they started walking down the street towards the theatre. As they walked, Aziraphale was trying to act like he didn’t notice the stares. After all, he was mostly used to it because everyone noticed Crowley, but there were always more when they presented as a female. Occasionally, there were catcalls, but Crowley dealt with those swiftly. 

“Mr. Fell,” a voice called out behind them. They turned and saw a well-built walking up to them. “Hello George,” Aziraphale greeted him, “this is my friend, Antonia.” Aziraphale introduced him, “This is George, who owns the Little Soho Bakery down the street, the one that makes the wonderful apple cake.” “Apple?” Crowley asked, curving their lips at the corner. He just shook his head. Seeing George’s confused look, Aziraphale explained, “It’s an inside joke. Maybe we can visit your bakery and have a slice sometime.” “Yes, well,” George said, trying to get right footed again, “I wanted to see if you wanted the rest of an apple cake, since I am not able to serve it tomorrow.” “Oh, yes, thank you, George! We should have time to pick it up before the play,” he said, looking at Crowley for confirmation. “Yes, Angel, we should have time,” they replied, glancing at their phone. “We’ll go get it and bring it back to the shop, then we’ll go to the play,” Aziraphale decided as he started towards the bakery. George still seemed to be in a daze, but he walked in front of them so he could get to the shop first to open it. “George took over the bakery from his mother,” Aziraphale explained as they were walking, “Ms. Davis built up a wonderful business in the area. You may have met her.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not as outgoing as you are, angel,” Crowley replied. “Yes, but you have been around as along as I have, dear. Besides, you have picked up treats for me before,” he mentioned, noticing George’s expression. Poor dear, he thought, he has been struck by their beauty as well. Aziraphale wondered if he was going to say anything.   
They reached the bakery and went in. George walked behind the counter to get the cake. Once they got the cake, Aziraphale waited until they were far away from the bakery, and then sent the cake to the shop.

“We should have a nice assortment for tea,” he said as they continued to the theatre. “You’re certainly a spoiled angel,” Crowley teased, “having your own baker to give you free food.” “Oh, its not like that, dear, George is just being kind, and I suppose it doesn’t hurt that I am one of their best customers,” Aziraphale replied, “Besides, I think he was more interested in you.” “Me?” Crowley asked, surprised. Maybe they are so used to it by now, they just don’t see it, Aziraphale thought. “Well, I did tell you that dress looked lovely on you. Of course, everything does, but that dress does draw attention to your beauty,” he replied, thoughtlessly. Then his brain caught up with what he said. Why did I say that?, he thought, panicking, I’m trying to not push them away! He quickly glanced at Crowley, but they didn’t see concerned about it. Internally, Aziraphale gave a sigh of relief. “Angel! Are you flirting with me?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale smiled and said, “I really do mean it, dear. You do look amazing.”

They arrived at the theatre before Crowley could respond. During the play, Aziraphale tries to focus on the performance. At least it’s one of the funny ones, he thought, Crowley should enjoy it. 

After the play, they were walking back to the bookshop and Aziraphale was debating whether or not to invite them in for a nightcap. They spent many nights like that, drinking and trading stories, until Crowley would leave in the morning to get some sleep or check on their plants. Nothing awkward happened during these times. Maybe it would be a good way to get over the awkwardness that he felt. 

At the bookshop door, he turned to Crowley and asked, “Would you like to come in for a night cap? I have some lovely Pinot Noir that will top off the night nicely.” “How can I say no to that?” Crowley smirked. Aziraphale opened the bookstore door and said, “After you, my dear.”  
Two or three bottles later, they were talking about Hamlet when Aziraphale said, “You know, you were responsible for more than Hamlet’s success. I’m sure that helped William’s other plays become successes as well.” “I don’t care for what you are implying, Angel,” Crowley replied, taking a sip of wine. “Well, I won’t say you’re nice or kind because those are four-letter words, but I will say that it was worth you cheating so I had to go to Edinburgh,” he said, smiling into his wine. “Me? I would never!” they exclaimed, clutching at their heart. “I’m sure, you wily old serpent,” he replied, fondly. 

They say there for moments in the silence when Crowley asked, “What did you mean?” “What?” he replied, confused. “Before the play, you said something about the baker being interested in me,” they clarified. “Oh well,” Aziraphale began, how do I answer this without making it more awkward, he thought. “Well, George was obviously enamored with you, he couldn’t seem to stop looking at you. I guess you are so used to it that maybe you don’t notice it,” he answered nonchalantly. In his mind, it was just a normal reaction to Crowley. “I seriously doubt that, angel. I’m not the one he flagged down to just give free cake to,” they pointed out, lifting an eyebrow. He was surprised when they put it that way. “I’ve never thought of that,” he said. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t realize when people are attracted to you. William being another example,” Crowley suggested.   
“Oh no, William was definitely interested in you. He didn’t say or try anything in while I was in Edinburgh?” Aziraphale asked, incredulously. “No, the only contact I had with him was the day I met you at the Globe,” Crowley answered. 

Aziraphale shook his head in disbelief. This happened before William met Henry and after he left Anne. He couldn’t think of a reason why William wouldn’t want Crowley. “I’m just surprised,” Aziraphale replied, “He wasn’t with Henry or Anne at the time, so I don’t understand why he wouldn’t.” “I may be a demon, but lust was never a sin I was interested in. You know, I prefer greed and envy,” they answered, shrugging.   
“As an angel, I have love for all of Her creations, but I’ve never been interested in having sex with humans, or anyone, really,” he agreed.   
“What about romantic love?” they asked, curious. “Well,” Aziraphale stalled, trying to think about what to say or how much to say. I would love to be in a romantic relationship with you, he thought, but you already know that. It was a delicate balance, to not say too much but not lie.   
“I’m a hopeless romantic, you know,” he hedged, not sure what to say. “That’s not what I asked,” Crowley replied, “Have you ever been in love?” “I am,” Aziraphale blurted out. A beat of silence, then, “You are?” Crowley asked, sounding flat. 

Aziraphale was looking down, fiddling with his hands, so he didn’t see the expression on Crowley’s face. He took a deep breath (though he didn’t need it) and said, “I am still in love with you, Crowley. That hasn’t changed.”

The sound of broken glass made him look up. Crowley was looking at him with a strange look on his face, their wine glass broken on the floor. “Still?” they mouthed. “Yes, I am sorry for mentioning it, but you did ask,” Aziraphale rushed though, “we can just forget I said anything.”   
“When did you fall in love with me?” Crowley asked, sitting up straighter than he had ever seen them. “I don’t know when, it just…happened,” Aziraphale defended, “I know you don’t feel the same, but I do still love you and always will. I don’t want to lose you over this, let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything.” “Pretend! After 6,000 years, you want me to pretend?! I love you too and we will not pretend anything!” Crowley practically shouted.

“You love me, too?” He asked, glazing at Crowley adoringly. “Can I hug you?” Aziraphale asked, not wanting to do anything they didn’t want. `He ended up with an armful of demon as an answer. “I’ve loved you for 6,000 years, Angel, we have a lot of hugging to make up for,” Crowley replied, “maybe some kissing, too.” 

“Love, we have all the time in the world,” Aziraphale responded, finally able to wrap his arms around his demon.


End file.
